Song

You shout my name from beyond my dreams, beyond the picture window of this Rosarito beach house. Rushing from bed to shore I glimpse their backs— volcanoes rising out of the sea. Your back, a blue-black silhouette, feet wet with the wash of morning waves. Fountains spring from mammal minds, my hands lifting a splash of sand. I'm on my knees, toes finding a cool prayer beneath them, fingers pressing sea foam to my temples, while you open arms wide as a generation, raise them to a compass point, dive. If you could reach them, you would ride their fins under the horizon, then surf the crash of waves left in their wake. And if I could grasp my own fear, I'd drown it, leave it breathless and blue as this ocean, as the brilliant backs of whales surfacing for air.